


Undoing

by KhissaCat



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drabble, F/M, MArichat if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhissaCat/pseuds/KhissaCat
Summary: What if Marinette / Ladybug started to fall for her partner?





	

How?! How had she never noticed? His rangy frame unfolding from a crouch, razor claws grating, sparking, against concrete. How? How could she have missed it? The span of his shoulders, broad and tense, corded muscles pulling against the suit. So blind, how had she never noticed, he stalked, soundless, a predator nearing its prey, all agility and deadly grace. How could she have missed how his eyes glowed in moonlight, slanted green orbs that shone from the darkness, reminding you that the demon was watching, promising death. God, how had she never realized… he was terrifying…

A gloved hand, black as night and clad in magic, reaches out and she can’t refuse, she takes it in her own and is lifted as if gravity is no equal to the man swathed in shadow. He has his own gravity, and it’s pulling her deeper. Another ink-dark hand is at her waist, she knows that they are tipped in claws that can lengthen at will, can shear through steel, and would carve her pale skin as easily as butter, but they never touch her. She is drawn against a body that is warm like autumn rain, warm as the walls of Paris after a summer’s day, his warmth sinks into her bones like sunshine and her shiver is not one of fear. No she does not fear the shadow, she fears no apparition of death, not while he is here. If he is here, it is others who should fear…

There is no antidote for this, the dire poison that he is. His honeyed whisper is toxic, it numbs her senses and sends her reeling. His touch is like fever, his fingers leave marks beneath her skin that burn, reducing her to ashes in his arms. He is a virus, invading her nights, her days, her thoughts. The marks of him are seared into her soul, brands that ache and remind her of him. He’s a drug to her, dangerously intoxicating, the way she craves him is frightening. There is no antidote to him, she doesn’t want any…

How far must an angel fall? to call the night, the darkness her lover? How deeply spellbound must a heart be? To ignore the obvious fear, to look past the danger? How far gone was she? to so willingly melt into his embrace, to crave his lips on hers, to desire the feel of him beneath her hands?  
Far enough that her destruction mattered little, as long as it was he that was her undoing…


End file.
